


Wind + Water + Bullet

by dickgrysvn



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e21 Wind + Water, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, just a little what if at the end of that episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn
Summary: Mac takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and slams the metal sign into the dirt next to the pole. A swift, painful kick to the sign, and the wires snap as the whole pole topples over. Mac doesn’t wait to see if it lands on anything. He turns and runs, pushing through the screaming pain in his ribs, trying to get as far away as he can before-“Light him up!”That.{AU tag to Wind + Water, where Mac doesn’t quite get away completely scot free}
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	Wind + Water + Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> HI. I’M BACK. It’s been almost 2 years since my last macgyver fic and I can’t even with myself. Well, I’m back, at least for a short while. So. Here’s an idea I’ve had bouncin around for probably four years. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also huge thanks to n1ghtshade aka thethistlegirl on tumblr for beta reading this for me

Mac’s fairly certain his ribs are busted. It definitely felt like those were steel toed boots that impacted his side, and crawling through the sewers out of the bank had almost made him pass out. Even now, sitting up straight in front of the wheel is making him see spots, but he doesn’t dare slouch or shift his weight for fear the finger on the trigger to his right will twitch just enough. So he tries to limit his breathing, tries to keep himself as still as possible, but every bump and jostle sends a wave of white-hot pain through his side. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes on the road.

It’s both a blessing and a curse when they come across the downed tree. On the one hand, it means he can get a break from the ruts and the potholes, but on the other, he’ll most likely be made to get out and help. He holds his breath, waiting and hoping they can manage it themselves, but he’s not surprised when they can’t.

_Why can’t anything ever just work out the way it should? All I needed was a vacation. Helping Carlos with his new house should have been that, but in true Macgyver luck fashion, we end up involved in a bank robbery. Figures._

He dreads the moment he has to actually climb down from the truck. Thankfully it’s not too high off the ground, so it’s not too jarring when he steps out. Each step feels like a fresh kick to the ribs, but he forces himself to move forward, to take in the situation before him. He pushes the pain aside, and lets his brain take over, weighing solutions and problems like they’re no more than crossword puzzles on a Sunday morning.

_This broken sign could work as a lever, but I’d need a fulcrum for it to work properly— or I could fake it. Use it to take out that power pole. They wouldn’t know any better. Hopefully._

Mac carefully bends over to pick up the sign, fighting back the groan of pain that almost escapes him at the shift in his ribs. If this works, he’ll have a split-second window, and he can’t afford to let his ribs slow him down. He lifts it carefully, turning to walk back over to the fallen tree. He’s met with the barrel of the gun pointed straight at his chest again, and he schools his features into disinterest and scorn, hoping his face doesn’t betray the way his heart just lurched in his chest a little.

“Just gonna use this as a lever, if you don’t mind,” he manages to snark, pleased with the sarcasm and apathetic tone he manages to squeeze out. Booth waves him on, slightly frustrated, and Mac fights the urge to shake his head in disgust. He makes his way to the end of the tree, pretending to find the best spot to slide the sign underneath, instead eyeing the best way to take out the power pole. He takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and slams the metal sign into the dirt next to the pole. A swift, painful kick to the sign, and the wires snap as the whole pole topples over. Mac doesn’t wait to see if it lands on anything. He turns and runs, pushing through the screaming pain in his ribs, trying to get as far away as he can before-

“Light him up!”

_That_.

Mac tries to run faster, but he can’t help but flinch violently when the gunshot goes off behind him. He feels the movement cause more sharp pain in his side, likely his busted ribs finally puncturing something, and he cries out briefly, stumbling. He hears another gunshot, and squealing tires, and he flinches again and turns around. He immediately takes in the sight of Booth on the ground, bleeding from the shoulder, as Jack practically bursts out of a truck, gun in hand. It’s all over in a flash, the policía surrounding the rest of the men as Jack holsters his gun and smiles at Mac from across the road. Mac breathes a sigh of relief, dropping his hands from where he’d reflexively been checking his chest after those gunshots. The adrenaline begins to fade, and Mac inhales sharply at a fresh stab of pain in his side. He tries to shift his weight to take some pressure off his ribs, and his side screams in protest in a way it hadn’t been before. He presses a hand to his side to help ease the pain, and is startled to find his shirt wet with something warm and sticky. Did his rib puncture through his side? No, if that happened he’d already be dead. So then…? Suddenly he realizes the significance of the extra pain he felt after that first gunshot. Oh. He pulls his hand away slowly, staring at the dark red blood now coating his fingers. He looks up when Jack calls his name, and he sees the older man’s face pale almost ghostly white when he catches sight of the blood.

“ _Mac_!”

Jack starts running, and Mac knows he won’t be conscious long enough for Jack to get to him. It was as if the sight of his own blood was a trigger for his brain to register every bit of pain his nerves were sending up, and he barely manages to mumble Jack’s name before his vision grays out and he feels himself collapse into the dirt. His world erupts in pain as he hits the ground, his ribs grinding painfully as he lands. His side is on fire, burning his brain into oblivion, and the last thing he hears before he slips into the blissful void is Jack frantically calling his name.

“ ** _Mac_**!”

* * *

  
  
It’s always stressful any time Jack’s not got Mac in his line of sight. But sometimes it’s even more stressful when he is in Jack’s line of sight, but he’s too far away to even help. This is one of those times. The second they spot the robbers and the stopped truck, Jack already sees what’s about to happen. He’s up and leaning out the truck window before he finishes yelling for someone to grab the wheel, and he lines up a shot as best he can without wasting too much precious time. Just before he lines up his shot, there’s another crack of gunfire and Jack feels his heart lurch into his throat when Mac flinches bodily. But the kid doesn’t go down, and Jack takes that chance to fire his own weapon, satisfied when the man goes down with a cry. Jack grins, seeing Mac turning around at the sound of the second shot and all the tires squealing around them. He slides back into the truck, quickly putting it in park before properly opening the door and getting out the correct way. He holsters his gun when he’s sure the police have them all covered, looking up to find Mac again as he makes his way over. The kid drops his hands from his chest where he seemed to have reflexively been checking for bullet wounds, and Jack breathes a sigh of relief that Mac seems not to have found any. A small bubble of concern makes its way back up his throat, however, when Mac inhales sharply and shifts, wrapping an arm around his side. Busted ribs, maybe? Not ideal, but not usually deadly. A look of confusion crosses Mac’s face then, and Jack moves a little faster. The kid slowly pulls his hand away from his side, and Jack feels like he suddenly can’t breathe.

“Mac?”

Mac looks up at him then, and Jack’s eyes travel to the hand held out from his side. It’s covered in blood, and Jack feels his heart drop from his throat into his stomach.

“ _Mac!_ ”

He’s running now, sprinting the last few yards to Mac, and he’s almost there when he sees the kid’s face go white as a sheet. Mac’s eyes roll back and he drops like a rock, just before Jack makes it to his side. He hears the small moan of pain as Mac hits the ground, and he drops to his knees beside him.

“ ** _Mac!_** ”

He gets no response, and Jack still can’t breathe as he presses a shaky hand to Mac’s pulse point. He sags in relief when he feels one, slow but steady, finally letting out the breath he’d been holding for God knows how long. Bozer and Riley have made it to his side now too, Riley calling for a medic as they ran. Jack’s grateful, because he doesn’t think he would’ve even thought of it right now. He’s too focused on trying to gently turn Mac over without jostling him so he can put pressure on the bleeding hole in his side. Mac lets out a small whimper when he pushes down, and Jack’s heart cracks a little but he doesn’t let up.

He doesn’t know how long he kneels there, with Riley’s hand on his shoulder and Bozer pacing slightly behind them, before an officer runs over with a med kit and the news that the ambulance is 2 minutes out. Jack sends out a silent prayer of thanks, and he risks half a second to gently cup one hand against Mac’s cheek. _Almost there, buddy_. As if in response to the contact, Mac’s eyes open just a fraction, hazy blue staring up at him with confusion and strangely, trust.

“J’ck?” Mac’s voice is barely more than a whisper, and Jack is torn between telling him to save his energy and hugging him to death.

“Yeah, kid. I’m right here,” he says instead, managing a small smile. “I’m right here and help is coming, okay? Just hang in there, hoss.” He pushes the gauze slightly tighter against Mac’s side, and the kid groans softly. “Sorry, buddy, gotta keep your insides together, man,” he jokes, attempting humor despite knowing Mac’s barely conscious. But the kid’s lips quirk just slightly, and Jack shakes his head in wonder.

“B’okay,” Mac mumbles softly before letting his eyes fall shut again, but Jack can still feel him breathing under his hands.

“Yeah, kid. You’re gonna be okay.” Jack knows somebody will have to call Matty, tell her they can’t make that mission in Pakistan. He knows she’ll probably be pissed, but all Jack cares about is that he gets to tell her that Mac is hurt, not dead or missing. It could have been so much worse, and Jack thanks his lucky stars it isn’t. His kid is alive and breathing, the bleeding isn’t getting any worse, and the ambulance is pulling up beside them.

Yeah, it’s gonna be okay.


End file.
